


Not Good-bye

by Bryonia_Alba



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 21:08:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10907499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bryonia_Alba/pseuds/Bryonia_Alba
Summary: They won't say good-bye, even though they both know otherwise.





	Not Good-bye

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Large Cauldron Collider Ficlet Fest, Summer 2008. Neville is 17 in this story.

“Hold still,” Snape instructs, smoothing more dittany ointment over the boy’s ravaged back, crisscrossed by welts and weals beyond counting. “Why you insist upon doing this to yourself is beyond me.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the boy answers, voice tight with pain. “I haven’t been at it for years like you’ve done.”

“Touche. Nor will you have to, if all goes as it should. That should suffice, Longbottom.”

Neville straightens gingerly, rolling his shoulders with hesitant care. “That’s better.”

He wants to ask; Snape knows this simply by looking at him. Pride forbids it. Unfortunately, Snape also knows the time for pride has passed. He will not see Longbottom again after tonight, not until everything is over. Perhaps never again.

“Your grandmother is safe,” he says. “She wrote a letter. It was regrettably intercepted before I could deliver it to you safely.” He waits a beat, sees the boy’s eyes brighten. “They’ve also made a decision regarding your actions. They’ve decided that if they cannot stop you or convince you to join their cause, they have no other recourse than to remove you, despite your pureblood status. Permanently.”

Neville pales, but doesn’t flinch. Snape wonders why he had never realised until now that the boy had been made of much sterner stuff than he’d originally thought. He’d underestimated this one, badly. One of his few misjudgments of character, and possibly one of the deepest.

“When?”

“Soon. Possibly even tonight. I would advise caution when you leave tonight, if I thought you would listen. I cannot help you to escape the castle, Neville. Your activities are not the only ones being watched. I will not see you again after tonight.”

Neville pauses in the act of reaching for his shirt. “Don’t worry about me. I know a few hiding places to hole up in until Harry comes back.”

It doesn’t escape Snape’s notice when he doesn’t add he will be missed. It’s in Neville’s eyes. So many strange, terrible things have been done these past long months, and love very well recognised too late only the worst of it. Who could have known, or even foreseen?

The letter is still in one of Snape’s desk drawers. He retrieves it, handing it over once Neville finishes easing into his shirt. “Don’t button it,” he says. “Not yet.”

And then he kisses him, pink lips parting beneath his own, listening to the boy’s soft moan as Snape reaches around to cup his young, firm arse. This isn’t good-bye, he tells himself, stroking Longbottom’s growing erection through his trousers. He trails his tongue over the boy’s collarbone, pinches a nipple between slender fingers, tugging it to a hard point. Neville’s head falls back, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Snape’s head snakes forward, feasting on the cord in his neck before moving lower, and lower still.

It’s the work of a moment before Neville’s trousers are undone and lowered. Snape drops to his knees and presses a kiss to his navel, tongue dipping inside, his hands curving around the younger man’s hips. Looking up, he meets brown eyes darkened with sadness and need. Snape cannot bring himself to smile, not in reassurance or even pleasure. It isn’t good-bye, he reminds himself, nuzzling his pubes and inhaling deeply.

Tongue flickering out, he licks at the hard length of Neville’s shaft, moaning at the salty taste of him before taking him fully, sucking hard. His fingers thread through Snape’s fine hair, bucking into his mouth, and he hums, making the frequency of his thrusts increase.

Neville is young, not even eighteen, and it isn’t long before he comes, the heat of his release spilling over Snape’s lips and tongue. He swallows it all, licking him clean once it’s done, and rises, helping him finish dressing.

“Don’t forget the letter from your grandmother,” he says, cool and controlled once more. “Do be careful on your way back.”

“I will,” Neville promises. He steps forward, greatly daring, and kisses him again, but he doesn’t say good-bye.

It isn’t good-bye. Snape tries to believe it.


End file.
